Welcome to Sandy Shores, Blaine County, San Andreas. Population, 3010. A humble desert town in west America home to mass suicide, drug runners, strangers, freaks, crooked cops, pollution, and poverty. The American Dream come alive. In this wretched paradise lives a rather peculiar fellow known as Trevor Phillips. The best we can conclude from Mr. Phillips is that his head isn't exactly screwed on correctly. Mentally unstable, psychotically violent, and grounded from the air force for being too reckless, Trevor was never a role model for the community. In fact, it's rather surprising he remains in his dilapidated trailer instead of being locked up in solitary confinement. Nevertheless, he managed to make a killing, metaphorically and literally, at his gun/drug running business known as Trevor Phillips Enterprises, Trevor Philips Incorporated, Trevor Philips Industries, etc. The name hasn't been very consistent. No one knows why Trevor doesn't move to a better neighborhood, but it's confidential information known only by Trevor and his cronies, Ron the paranoid conspiracy theorist who lives next door, and Wade the juggalo manchild.
In his humble abode, Trevor sat on his beer/pee/whatever else stained couch counting his money that he stole from the local biker gang known as the Lost, of course after he torched their trailers with molotov cocktails, exploded their vans and motorcycles, murdered the bikers in gruesomely unimaginable ways, and drank all of their beer. $3000 worth of loot means he is soon on the way to owning the largest gun/drug running business in all of Blaine County. He was an ambitious man, going through extreme lengths to expand his business, but all of those lengths were needed to ensure success, no matter how cruel and destructive. Trevor sniffed the stale air around his living room/kitchen and noticed a particularly foul stench coming from his trash can. Not to say there aren't any other foul stenches in his trailer, he approached the trash can, which was filled to the brim with leftover pizza, cigarettes, beer, amputated limbs, etc., opened the window over the garage at the back of the house, and threw the can with considerable might through the window onto the street, making sure he beaned a Lost biker on the head, causing him to crash his motorcycle onto a gas station fuel pump. Direct hit.
Indifferent to the potential rise in gas prices, he could peer in his peripheral vision a yellow and pink figure, with a touch of white. Fearing some fruity Jehovah's Witness would preach to him about Jehovah and all of his wisdom, he charged towards his front screen door, yanked it open, and bellowed at the top of his lungs,
"Go away before I butcher your carcass and decorate my bedroom with it!"
Right after he impulsively screamed at the figure, he realized he was yelling at a small bright yellow pony with a long pink mane covering her right eye and a pink tail dragging across the ground with a small white bunny rabbit in tow. The horse, who on four legs looked about 1/4 the height of Trevor on two legs, slowly retreated from the front door with a frightened expression on her face. She had two closed wings on her side and had some sort of drawing of purple butterflies on her flank. She appeared extremely timid, with a demeanor of a PTSD victim reliving their horrible past, and gave this impression of a small frightened puppy looking for shelter, seemingly on the verge of tears. Her pet rabbit, residing on the back of the pony's back, seemed to be the polar opposite. He fixed Trevor the dirtiest look on his face as though he was about to go on a rampage and flipped him off for good measure.
"Those are some strange Jehovah's witnesses," Trevor pondered confusedly.
"Um..." whispered the shy little pegasus with a quivering tone, "I-I-I'm n-n-not a Jehovah's w-w-witness."
"Then what are you doing on my doorstep?"
"I-I-I'm so s-sorry. I d-didn't m-m-mean to m-make you upset. All w-we w-wanted w-was a g-good h-home and f-food and w-water. I-I-don't w-want to w-waste your t-time. I-I'll just g-go away now as f-far as p-possible."
No matter how many people he's killed, eaten, immolated, stabbed, no matter how much private property he's vandalized and destroyed, and no matter how many strangers he's taken to the local psychopathic Altruist's cult on Mount Chiliad, Trevor couldn't help but quiver also for his horrid treatment towards her. The fragile wallflower needed to be protected at all costs; she deserved nothing less than a warm blanket, a bedtime story, some pizza, a great big hug, and a kiss from him to her. She reminded him of himself when he was just a small boy, except less emotionally scared and tormented.
"Aw, now don't cry, little one." he assured her in his calmest voice, even though it still was fairly loud. "How about you get your butterfly butt over to my place and we'll watch TV, play board games, tell stories, and get some grub, eh?"
"May I..." answered the pony, who was already wiping away tears with her left front leg, "...b-bring my little Angel Bunny along, please?"
"Fine." Trevor grudgingly agreed, "Just don't let the little sh*thead gouge my eyeballs out with a screwdriver."
"Oh, mister," the pony reassured Trevor with slightly more confidence in her voice. "He might seem pushy, but I can assure you that deep down in his heart, he's a real sweetheart once you get to know him."
Trevor let out an slight "aww;" she seemed so sweet and forgiving that he seemed about to get diabetes from her sheer cuteness. It was like the mother he wished he had.
Opening the door for the pretty yellow pony and that morally ambiguous bunny rabbit, he said,
"I'm Trevor Phillips. I own a small business in these parts. What's your name, little buddy?" as the pegasus stepped inside the trailer.
"I'm Fluttershy. Thank you for letting me stay at your house for a while. Who knows what would have happened to us if we hadn't found you?"
Lots of possibilities in this harsh cesspool named Blaine County, pondered Trevor. She could have been abducted by crazed baby boomers, eaten by mountain lions, run over by some doofus in his hippie van, and so on and so forth. The most important thing however, was that Fluttershy and Angel Bunny had a home, albeit a run-down trailer in the middle of nowhere.
"So, Fluttershy, the TV's in the kitchen, the bathroom's just up north from here, and the bedroom's to your left. Go ahead, make yourself at home, and try to ignore the stench of manhood, drugs, and trash."
"I promise," Fluttershy chuckled nervously.
It was going to take a LONG time to get used to, what with the filthy man with the balding head, dirty shirt, sweatpants, and boots, the emanating smells coming from around the house, and the dirty furniture, but she assured herself that wherever comes through would absolutely be worth it in the long run.
"Mr. Phillips," Fluttershy said, "I have to use the little lady's room, so please don't do anything rash. That is, if you please. I'm sorry if I'm being overly demanding."
Trevor couldn't tell whether she was being sarcastic or incredibly polite, but what he did know was that he didn't eat since 5 hours ago; he was hankering for a good meal. After Fluttershy hesitantly entered the bathroom in preparation of what to expect, Trevor fixed his eyes on Fluttershy's pet bunny.
"I haven't had rabbit since 3 months ago." Trevor thought to himself, "Maybe I'll go make myself a rabbit sandwich and see if cartoon bunnies taste as good as the ones in Blaine County."
Angel glared intensely at this psychopathic nutcase. Why would Fluttershy want to spend time with some bozo in the middle of nowhere living in the filthiest conditions? She always was overly trusting, always seeing the best in everyone, the bunny thought. It wasn't long until Trevor would have horse on the menu too, he assumed. Unwilling to put up with Trevor's crap, he found a half-full Pisswasser bottle lying in front of the couch and hurled the tonic with considerable force for such a small bunny rabbit directly aiming for and hitting Trevor's forehead.
"My dad hit me harder than that, you little punk!" Trevor exclaimed as he recoiled from the sheer impact of glass breaking on his forehead, almost causing him yet another laceration on his forehead in his lifetime.
Trevor snatched the cheeky rabbit with his filthy, blood/dirt ridden hands and directed him towards the pot right on top of his stove.
As this was going on, Fluttershy had a disgusted look on her face similar to a look someone would have seeing their grandmother naked.
"Um, Trevor," Fluttershy said in an nervous tone, "I r-really don't think underwear belongs on top of the toilet. It would be nice if you keep your underwear in your drawers, please. That would be really nice."
Right when she got out of the bathroom, the most horrifying vision would haunt her nightmares for years to come. Trevor was trying to force her darling little bunny into a dirty pot, trying to cook himself a nice plate of bunny casserole. Fluttershy immediately switched from frightened and panicked into a state that Trevor himself could never predict: sheer fury emanating from her aura. Her eyes glared at his presence, her posture fixed upright, and snorting came from her nose. She knew she wasn't going to put up with this nonsense.
"TREVOR PHILLIPS!" she exclaimed, nearly shaking the whole house. "HOW DARE YOU HARM MY SWEET LITTLE BABY? YOU THINK YOU CAN MURDER AN INNOCENT CREATURE AND NOT FEEL SORRY FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE? YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, MISTER! IF I WAS YOUR MOTHER, OH SO HELP ME I WILL GROUND YOU FOR A MONTH! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR, YOUNG MAN?"
As Fluttershy flew towards his eyes and stared at him with an intensity of a thousand suns with a distance between her eyes and Trevor's eyes mere inches, Trevor loudly burst into tears. He had never felt so vulnerable since during his childhood.
"I'm sorry, mommy! Please don't hurt me mommy, please don't lock me in the closet with the rats and spiders and force me to wear a tutu and rant about how I'm useless and I'm a waste of sperm!"
Fluttershy, while confused about his comments, continued to reason with Trevor.
"Now, please be a good boy and put Angel Bunny down on the floor and think about what you've done."
Trevor, with tears rolling down his face at an extreme rate, gently placed Angel on the kitchen floor and exclaimed,
"I'm so sorry, I've been a bad boy! I deserved to be abused! I deserved to be hated! My parents were right, I am worthless and contribute nothing to society! Spank me, paddle me, slap me, kick me, do anything you want!"
Fluttershy immediately shifted from her stern tone of voice and posture to a more gentle, encouraging demeanor.
"Aww, it's okay, Trevor. I'm sure you're a wonderful person at heart. You just made a bad decision. I won't harm you in any way. We all make mistakes. We're not perfect. Just leave Angel Bunny alone right now and let us pretend this never happened," she smiled. "You seem to have a bad childhood. I know how it feels to lose yourself because of mental trauma. Let's sit on the bed, and we'll talk over our problems."
"Wait a minute," Trevor Phillips said, "I just tried to cook your bunny and you're just gonna let bygones be bygones. What kind of reasoning is that?"
"You realized you made a mistake, you apologized, you made up for it, and that's all that counts."
Angel facepalmed so hard he almost knocked himself over. As much as Trevor's a lunatic, he thought, don't just let him off the hook because he tried to murder me. What is wrong with you?
Fluttershy cleared the bed of dirty laundry, dirty magazines, and dirty food, flew up to the bed, sat down, and awaited Trevor's arrival. Trevor pounced on the bed, almost knocking the pegasus off.
"Oh my goodness! Please don't be so rough! You could've killed me!" a frightened Fluttershy exclaimed.
"Sorry, Fluttershy. I guess I'm still kind of a child in a man's body, except a psychologically damaged kid suffering from emotional, physical, and verbal abuse from my parents. You see, when I was just swimming in sh*tty diapers, I was just like you. Timid, meek, afraid of everything, but could lash out if you f*ck with me too hard. My uncle singed my face with a cow brander when I was 1. I was born in a dumpster filled with fecal matter and broken dreams because my mother got high while having an affair with the drummer of Love Fist when she was 8 months pregnant. My parents made me sleep in the basement closet when I wasn't sleeping in the attic where I slept on a stone mattress with a dead rat for a pillow. Occasionally when I walked home from school, this creepy guy in a clown suit would force me to eat dead rodents for years and touch me inappropriately. That is why I'm scared of clowns. I was paddled, strangled, beaten, criticized, sh*t on literally and metaphorically, punched in the face by my father, shot in the leg, impaled by a fork in the nose, and put on the torture rack for not eating my vegetables. I put up with all the sh*t I went through for YEARS, and then one day, I snapped. After that clown tried to forced me to eat my dead pet possum, Candy, whom I was about to bury, a new side emerged from me. I strangled the clown by his neck with his tie, punched him in the face, and when he went unconscious, I turned on the lawnmower and sliced his face clean off. This violent, psychotic side of me stayed with me for many years. I felt so proud of myself stabbing people with hockey sticks, immolating people, performing cannibalism, and acting like an all out animal. And that is why you have me today."
"Oh...my... I feel your p-pain. All the kids used to call me Klutzershy when I was a weak flyer in flight camp. The local townspeople in Ponyville would frequently take advantage of me since I'm such a doormat. My dad favored my brother over me because I am such a scaredy-pony. My brother used to force me to give him lunch money and do homework for him and always blamed what he did on me, and I never had a friend in my childhood except for Rainbow Dash. When Dashie used to stick up for me when I was humiliated in flight camp, she would always tell me to be assertive; don't give up. No matter how horrible my life was, she always told me to have confidence and to believe in myself. I try to believe in myself. I try to stand up for myself, but when I do, I always fail. I know how to stand up for other people and animals. But if I stand up for myself, I always end up getting laughed at or transforming into a big bully. I just don't know how to keep a middle ground for myself. I think to myself at times, what's the point? I'm still going to be a weak, spineless doormat who doesn't belong. The only way I can feel happy is when my animals friends are by my side. At least they listen to me. Whenever I see someone I don't really know, I fall flat on my face. I feel frozen, alone, worthless. I feel like I don't belong. Sometimes, I wonder why I was put in this world, but my animals and my close friends keep me from feeling depressed. I couldn't thank them enough, and I'm glad I have them by my side. And I'm glad I have you by my side. It makes me feel better talking about our problems, and I'm really surprised we could relate in some ways, except for the killing and harming people part. But still, I continue to be bullied and humiliated in my life."
"Wow." Trevor said, "I never knew how much you struggle just to live your life as I did back in my childhood. Hearing how everyone treats you makes me want to strangle THE EVERLOVING SH*T OUT OF THEM! However, I know you really dislike violence and would probably no longer love me because I'm such a sociopath. But the sad thing is, I think I'll be a nutcase for the rest of my life. No matter what you do in the future, you still can't change your past. I'm still gonna be the guy who kills people as a hobby, dresses up in women's dresses, and lashes out at people just for looking at me funny. I don't know if I'll ever change, but I'll make sure I'll never forget you, my Fluttershy."
Fluttershy gently licked Trevor's face not caring how grimy it is. She nuzzled him on his ugly little nose as Trevor caressed her soft pink mane and kissed her on her cute forehead.
"I don't want you to ever leave me, Fluttershy. I need you. You're one of the only people who truly cared about me, even when you know how much of a crazy b*stard I am. But I'll always be your crazy b*stard."
"You're my crazy b-word and I'll still love you for it!," Fluttershy exclaimed.
Angel Bunny was in the kitchen, eating a delicious cheese pizza, gagging about how corny this whole Trevor/Fluttershy thing is. It's official, Angel Bunny thought, she's lost her mind. What kind of a silly, gullible fool would give Trevor the benefit of the doubt? He's eventually going to kill you, Fluttershy. This guy blew up a biker, for goodness sake.
"Gee, Fluttershy, all of this cuddling is making me tired. Let's go say we hit the hay?" Trevor asked.
"Yes," Fluttershy yawned, "After all, it is getting late. 12:00 AM! My goodness! I usually fall asleep way earlier than that! But, tomorrow will be a brand new day with big adventures."
"Yep," Trevor yawned, "let's be with each other for the rest of our lives."
"Hush now quiet now, it's time to lay our sleepy heads, hush now quiet now, it's time to go to bed," Fluttershy sang calmly and melodiously as the two fell asleep on the cheap, flimsily made bed as only crickets and the occasional car passing by the trailer provided ambiance.
Author's Note
Some Rough Draft I created.
